Do You Hear What I Hear?
by Cielita
Summary: Emily has been home alone watching horror movies during a rainstorm. Patrick is coming home early from a trip and hasn't called. Chaos ensues! Challenge response to Jestana. Challenge: Rain.


"Do You Hear What I Hear?"

Emily Appleton Gates looked up from her book and sighed. A rainstorm that had been sitting over the city was still dumping what looked like gallons of rain on the area. It splattered against the windows and the wind pushed it around as it fell, creating a sort of dissonance that made reading nearly impossible. She took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose as she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She hated getting older. Though the glasses were not bulky and according to Patrick were very dignified and, at least to him, very attractive, glasses meant that she needed help to see well and accepting help wasn't something Emily accomplished easily. The house was so quiet she could hear the grandfather clock ticking against the wall and suddenly this too was a distraction. She sighed again and muttered unintelligibly as she slapped the book shut and stood, stretching and letting the shawl she'd had wrapped around her shoulders fall to the sofa. She reached high as if she would touch the ceiling, making her shirt lift fetchingly and show off a bit of her tummy. She took a deep breath and let it out as she lowered her arms and smoothed the shirt.

Patrick was away with Ben at some museum exhibit opening in Indiana and Emily had not been able to go along. Being a teacher had its limitations, after all. The men in her life were supposed to be coming home that evening and part of Emily worried that there might be some trouble with the heavy rain. Trying her best to trust them (another difficult feat for Emily) she went to the kitchen to warm up a cup of coffee and then returned to the sofa, put her glasses back on reluctantly, and reopened her book.

Luggage-laden Ben and Patrick ran from the airport terminal to the taxi that awaited them. By the time they loaded the luggage into the trunk and dashed back to sit in the back seat, their jackets and shirts were soaked and both smoothed their hair out of their eyes as they laughed. It was still late afternoon, as Ben was able to change them to an earlier flight, but Patrick had insisted upon not warning Emily.

"I want to surprise her," Patrick had said with a grin.

"I'm not sure that's wise," Ben warned him. Patrick had simply chuckled and waved him off. Now, Ben was safely dropped off at home, the rain still pouring down and sloshing out the gutters and down the storm drains as Patrick watched his only son fiddle with his key in the door and then abruptly look up as Abigail jerked the door open. She was smiling from ear to ear to see him so early and eagerly helped pull the luggage inside. Patrick was nearly too far away to see it, but through the tall, wide windows in the entry hall, Patrick watched Abigail sink into Ben's arms and welcome him home with a generous kiss. Patrick smiled and settled back into the seat, hoping to be experiencing much the same welcome from Emily when he got home.

Emily had since moved from the sofa to a chair where she had the benefit of a lamp and she now worked the crossword puzzle from the morning paper, glancing up occasionally at the horror thriller playing on the television. Emily insisted to herself that she wasn't really watching it, but when she looked up, she found herself making a face and muttering at the characters as if they could hear her and take her advice.

"Tsk…Don't go into the bloody basement when you know there's something down there…at least put some warmer clothes on!" she grumbled, adjusting her posture and going back to her crossword. The character in the film screamed as the villain caught up to her and Emily shook her head without looking up.

"I told you."

Knowing that Patrick wouldn't be home before dinner, Emily shut off the movie as the credits rolled and wandered to the kitchen to fix herself something to eat. Headlights in front of the house escaped her notice, as did Patrick dashing for the front door and dropping the luggage on the front step as he dug in his pocket for the keys and jammed the correct one into the lock. Emily heard someone rattling the doorknob and shrieked, dropping the glass in her hand as she reacted. It shattered on the floor under the bright lights of the kitchen and poor Emily's heart raced. What was she going to do if someone was breaking into the house? Patrick heard Emily scream and panicked, finally getting the door open and tossing his luggage aside as he charged into the house.

Emily looked this way and that, panic constricting her lungs and she subconsciously took three steps back toward the kitchen wall and screamed again when she heard the front door fly open and a crash that she was sure was something in the front hall being knocked over. Patrick was now frantic to find his wife, sure that he had come home to some emergency—how would he explain it to Ben if something awful became of his mother?

"Emily!?" Patrick shouted, too blinded by his fear for Emily to worry about himself. "Emily, where are you!?" Patrick absentmindedly pushed the door shut, accidentally slamming it in the force of the wind. He cringed but now the house was quiet—too quiet.

"Emily!" Patrick shouted again, taking a few more steps through the living room, through the dining room and pushing open the kitchen door, his eyes raiding the room for the source of the sobs he was hearing. Stepping around the small kitchen table, Patrick discovered the broken glass, walked carefully around it, and finally found Emily curled up with her back in a corner, her knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around to hide her head as much as she could. She was positively petrified, and Patrick had no idea why.

"Emily! Em, what is it?" Patrick cried, kneeling and reaching out to touch her. She cried out and defiantly threw a punch, aiming the heel of her hand for his nose as she looked up. Patrick jerked back, caught her hand and held it in both of his. A second later, she recognized him and threw herself into his arms, shaking harder than Patrick had ever seen her shake.

"Patrick!" she sobbed, burying her face in his neck and shoulder. "Oh, Patrick!" Patrick, for his part, clutched her close to him and rocked a little, murmuring, "Shhhhh….it's all right now…"

"I thought for certain you were some burglar or murderer…" Emily wept, refusing to let go of her hold on Patrick.

"When you screamed, I thought for sure I was too late to save you!" Patrick said, still cuddling her against his shoulder and noticing that she was slowly calming down. Emily finally loosened her grip and her pale blue-gray eyes met her husband's icy blues. She swallowed hard and bit her lip lightly before she softly smiled.

"You…were charging in like that to save me?" Emily asked gently. Patrick stroked her back tenderly and chuckled.

"Of course I was," he replied. He swept back a section of Emily's hair that had fallen into her eyes and caressed her face lovingly. "I'd die if something happened to you and I had been close enough to do something about it." Emily smoothed the lapels of Patrick's jacket and smiled.

"That's very impetuous, Patrick," Emily said, a certain admiration in her voice.

"So is your right hand," Patrick teased. She started to laugh with him, accepting one more hug before Patrick moved one arm to support her legs and kept the other tight around her shoulders before he rocked back and stood.

"We really should do something about all that glass," Emily said, her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Leave it and I'll do it. You just come and sit down," Patrick said, lowering Emily to the sofa. When the kitchen had been swept, he returned to sit on the sofa with Emily, who draped her legs across his lap and snuggled in against his shoulder and chest. She sighed softly as he wrapped his arms around her and held her in the newly restored quiet of the house, the nearly inaudible hum of the air conditioner and the grandfather clock the only discernable sound.

"You were talking to the horror movies again, weren't you?" Patrick asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and taking a breath in her tousled blonde curls.

"How do you do that?" Emily said in mild irritation. "How do you know me so well?"

"I love you, Emily," Patrick whispered, smiling as Emily looked up at him and caressed his face with her right hand, bringing him the rest of the way to her in the welcome-home kiss that he'd waited all day for.

"Should we get something for dinner?" Patrick asked.

"Dessert first," Emily teased, kissing Patrick soundly again. "I don't want to see the inside of that kitchen again until morning."

THE END


End file.
